I'm a Slave 4 U
by ThouShallNotBeNamed
Summary: AU. Santana Maria Lopez is a tramp in New York City, stealing by seducing anyone. Little does she know that Brittany S. Peirce, a dancer, is spying on her every move. Brittana
1. Chapter 1

Santana Maria Lopez walked in a normal New York alleyway, dead end. Her blood-red lipstick curled into a sneaky smile, showing her perfect white teeth. The jet-black hair, curled into perfect position, complimented the manicure with black nails that brushed the brick wall as she sniffed it. It smelled of New York, a combination of drugs, urine, smoke, rats, and dumpster. As her red 5 inch heels clicked against the concrete, a scruffy man's shoes joined her, holding a bouquet of blood-red roses, complimented her tight dress that stopped mid-thigh.

"I got these for you miss, cause you so pretty." He purred in broken English, as Santana batted her mascara-ridden eyelashes, as her brown eyes darted to another man creeping up behind her. She cooed at the flowers, looking up innocently at the man, as she smashed her heel into the man's stomach, hard, and grabbed the pocket knife from her bra, and pressed it against the man's 5 o'clock shadow.

"Move." She commanded, as she reached into the man's pocket pulling a wallet out, and shoving the wallet back into her lacy red bra, as the drunken man staggered in shock, as Santana smiled evily to herself, at her success, making her way to her luxurious apartment.

Little did she know that a young girl, around her age of 24 watched in her beat-up black denim jeans, heel boots that went up to her knee's, black tank top, and a blue tie hanging loosely. She's been following this girl around lately, gathering snippits of info. So far, all she's known her name, apartment w/ room number, and that she makes herself beautiful, to break guys hearts.

Most importantly, Brittany S. Peirce loved her.

She ran, following her, and after years of dancing, her heels were as silent as ballet shoes tip-toeing across the room. She whipped around a corner her tangled dirty-blond hair hitting the brick wall, as Santana turned around quickly to see who was following her. Finally she stopped as Santana entered the apartment complex, knowing that she was going up to Apartment 13 C.

Afterwards, Brittany S. Peirce turned around, and ran back to her apartment, not knowing that Santana Maria Lopez spied the girl from her apartment, before throwing a cigarette on the street, that had a hint of blood-red lipstick on it.

**Reviews are Bliss.**


	2. Chapter 2

Santana Maria Lopez entered the night club, flashing it's multicolored lights, making the New York Streets a rainbow of colors. This time her outfit was a lot more casual. Tight jean shorts, and a shirt that looked like it belonged to Ke$ha. She still wore her red lipstick, but it looked casual. Just a simple wink from the guard, let her in, as she dove into the crowd. She danced, and while the men she was slowly mezmeroizing were unexpecting it, pick pocketed it, shoving it in her underwear, when her direction was turned to a certain stripper.

Brittany S. Peirce entered the back entrance of the night club, flinging her coat, and hat off to the side of the dressing room, then walked up to the stage to do her work. With her back turned to the crowd, and a cheap microphone attached to her head, she turned, and whispered into the headset.

_I know I may be young__  
__But I've got feelings, too__  
__And I need to do what I feel like doing__  
__So let me go and just listen_

Spinning around she catwalked up the stage, and started to pole dance, and whipping her hair around, singing:__

_All you people look at me like I'm a little girl__  
__Well, did you ever think it'd be okay for me to step into this world__  
__Always sayin' little girl don't step into the club__  
__Well, I'm just tryin' to find out why 'cause dancin's what I love___

_Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh__  
__Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh__  
__Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh_

Brittany tore off her shirt and shorts, revealing a shirt that showed midriff, and boy shorts underwear, and shook her butt, as men through money at her, and she smiled.__

_I know I may come off quiet, may come off shy__  
__But I feel like talking, feel like dancing when I see this guy__  
__What's practical is logical, what the hell who cares?__  
__All I know is I'm so happy when you're dancin' there___

_I'm a slave for you__  
__I cannot hold it, I cannot control it__  
__I'm a slave for you__  
__I won't deny it, I'm not tryin' to hide it_

Brittany, in full stripper mode, took off her shirt, and boy shorts, revealing a black lacy bra, and a lacy thong. The crowd cheered, and threw clothes, drinks, money, almost everything they could at her. She smiled as she continued to dance, going, and trying moves she hadn't done since college.__

_Baby, don't you wanna dance up on me__  
__To another time and place__  
__Oh baby, don't you wanna dance up on me__  
__Leaving behind my name and age___

_Like that__  
__You like it__  
__Yeah, now watch me_

Santana watched the girl, in awe, at her skills of dancing, and singing, and wondered if she might be bi.

"_If I can steal this lady's wallet, then I'm bi._" Santana thought, then approached the girl, who's wallet was peaking out of her tight shorts, as the girl jumped up and down.__

_Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh__  
__Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh__  
__Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh___

_I really wanna dance, tonight with you__  
__I really wanna do, what you want me to__  
__I really wanna dance, tonight with you__  
__I really wanna do, what you want me to_

5 minutes later Santana held a pink Juicy wallet in her hands in shock.

"_Shit._" Santana said dropping the wallet,__

_Baby, don't you wanna dance up on me__  
__To another time and place__  
__Oh baby, don't you wanna dance up on me__  
__Leaving behind my name and age___

_I'm a slave for you__  
__I cannot hold it, I cannot control it__  
__I'm a slave for you__  
__I will not deny it, I'm not tryin' to hide it, baby___

_Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh__  
__Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh__  
__Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh_

Brittany was on the ground, going all out, tossing people's trash around, rolling around, everything. She didn't care how sluttly she looked. The more money on the stage, the more money she made to keep her apartment.__

_Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh__  
__Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh__  
__Get it, get it, get it, get it, oh___

_I'm a slave for you__  
__I cannot hold it, I cannot control it__  
__I'm a slave for you__  
__I won't deny it, I'm not tryin' to hide it___

_Like that?_

Brittany finished in a backbend, as the crowd threw wallets, spare change, money saved for beer, everything at the dancer. She ran off, the curtain closed, and after Brittany collected the change, and everything into her backpack, she changed into a graphic tee, and shorts, and went to the bar, when she saw her.

Santana of course.

Walking over, she casually sat next to her and ordered a beer. The waitress winked, and gave it to her, when Santana spoke to her.

"You were good up there."

As Brittany stared at her, confused, Santana stammered, "I mean you're a good dancer, and singer."

"Oh," Brittany said happily, "Thanks."

"I don't get it." Santana rambled, putting her shot down, "You're an amazing dancer, and singer, why aren't you in Hollywood making an album or something."

Brittany threw her head back, her tangled hair dropping down to her waist, as she sat back up. "Thanks, that was my plan."

Santana put a hand on her shoulder, and the both felt a slight spark, "Then why aren't you there?"

The dancer sighed, "2 years ago I was a back-up dancer for Saturday Night Live. A year later I'm broke, and unemployed, so I got this job."

"I'm sorry." Santana replied, and as she turned away, Brittany poured a powder-like substance in the other girl's drink.

An hour later, they're at Santana's apartment. Santana's kisses are sloppy, and smell like beer, but right now Brittany doesn't care._  
_

**Reviews are Bliss.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N I Apologize for the few spelling mistakes I've made, and the short chapter, in order to try to post everyday.**

Brittany left early, and was relieved that Santana was still in slumber. Finding a pen, and sticky note, she left an anonymous note, grabbed a V8, and opened the modern-styled window. Before she left, she grabbed a fedora-styled hat of Santana's, and put on Santana's clothes from last night, and balled up her own clothes, and proceeded to leave. She stepped on the metal fire escape, her black leather heels leaving tiny prints in the thin layer of dust, as she bounced down the stairs, and headed back to her apartment.

Santana woke up, with an aching headache, stomach hurting, and not remembering a thing from last night. The last thing she remembered was talking to that girl. Achingly she got up, and then looked at her clothes.

"Why am I wearing a boa?" she asked the mirror, then holding her head, with her raven-black hair cascading down her face walked to the kitchen, when something bright caught her eye on the fridge. It was a sticky note, that after Santana read it, dropped it, and the note fluttered down to the floor like a leaf. The note read:

**Call Me**

**-B**

It had no phone number, but a lipstick mark, that when Santana touched, rubbed off on her fingers. Shoving a breakfeast burrito in the microwave, she sat on the couch, and put her head between her legs.

"God.." she muttered. "What did happen last night?"

Brittany took a small wire from her pocket, and inserted it into the padlock. In 10 seconds, it was unlocked, and the small scooter was brought to life. Speeding her way through New York, she weaved through stands, people, and parking meters, as people yelled, flicked her off, and honked. Ignoring them, she went to a non-descript brick building, and went to floor F apartment 27.

She entered a slightly rusty key, into a rusty lock, as tiny little scraps of rust fell on the stained carpet, than entered the room.

"Welcome home." She muttered looking around the 3 room apartment. It was small, with a bedroom, kitchen/living room/dance area, and a restroom, but it was in a good part of town, which was all that mattered.

She put the bag of junk from the stage, during her performance last night, and emptied it in her shower. Carefully, she threw away shards of glass, post it notes, and bra's, and counted the big pile of money, and smiled.

"300 dollars. Nice haul." She said out-loud to herself, then set it aside with the 50$ paycheck she got. After cleaning up, and changing into Yoga pants, and a loose t-shirt, she began to move the furniture away to make a space.

A half-hour later, she wiped sweat from her brow, got a radio out, inserted a CD , and plugged the radio in.

She stood with legs out, hands on hips, and head down as Teenage Dream by Katy Perry started to play.

Brittany opened her mouth, and making exact dance movements sang:

_You think I'm pretty__  
__Without any make-up on__  
__You think I'm funny__  
__When I tell the puch line wrong__  
__I know you get me__  
__So I'll let my walls come down, down_

**Reviews are Bliss.**


End file.
